the broken mug; an excerpt from Roscoe's journal

Background:  tonight, Roscoe broke my favorite mug that I made in ceramics class.  I used that thing more than any other mug.  I loved it.

I wrote in his journal tonight.

There are so many things I've thought about you that I wish I could remember to tell the adult-you.  That's why I have this journal, and I'm not using it like I planned.  I was hoping to get something written in here at least once a month during the time you're with us.  So I've missed 6 consecutive.  That's 50% of your life so far.  I hope that's not indicative of my filling up the rest of these pages.

I've often questioned my motives in doing this.  Why am I doing this?  What's the purpose?  Is it for me or for you?  Will I give it to you only to have you shrug your shoulders at it because you could care less?  If that's the case, do I even care?

 I don't think I do.

Because if you're that flippant about this kind of communication, it's by your choice--not our fault.  Your dad and I so want you to learn to appreciate the little things--well, what on the outside appears to be little (notes, for example)--because those add up and are really the bigger, more treasured things in life.

So on that note- I'm going to tell you about a thing.  An item.  A creation.  It is/was tangible, and it had no eternal value whatsoever.  But I loved this thing.  I made it.  I used it multiple times a week.  It was by far my favorite...coffee mug.

You broke it tonight.

And I could say things like "if I hadn't gotten you out of bed to play because you couldn't sleep, my mug would still be in one piece," but as soon as I think that I mentally slap myself.  Because that piece of burned clay can't make me smile, laugh, swell up with the deepest feelings of contentment and love like you can--like I experienced tonight when you were up WAY past bedtime.

It really is just a thing.  It held liquid.  I own approximately 2-3 dozen other perfectly functional liquid-holding vessels.

But I was so upset when you flung it off the end table and I watched it shatter on the floor.  Upset, sad, angry, frustrated.

Over a thing.

Remember those little things I just talked about?  For me, the little thing manifested itself in a sneaky way tonight--from 8:30-10 pm when you were so happy to be in the living room working out your energy instead of crying in your crib.

And that is something I'll treasure more deeply than any thing I could ever own.